


I Play to Your Tune

by endlesscloudsoftime



Series: YOI Mythology Week [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/M, German Mythology - Freeform, Implied Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Journey, Lorelei - Freeform, Loreley, Lust, rock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:23:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlesscloudsoftime/pseuds/endlesscloudsoftime
Summary: Refusing to be toyed with, Mila takes back her control, or so she thinks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> YOI Mythology Week Day 4: Free prompt

Not being able to comprehend exactly what had just occurred to her, Mila stares blankly at the pavement. She doesn’t register the passing of daylight, or the strange glances she receives, her mind stuck in the bog of her thoughts. Her mind keeps replaying one moment, sandwiched in between thoughts that differ from each other in both tone and word. Her hands clench, trying to retain the warmth that they once held, but as the memory of the same warmth flinging them away flit through her mind again, they tighten, enough for her fingernails to break skin. It is when she sees the single drop of blood splattered on her white skirt, does she feel an inkling of a resolve within her, which strengthens and roots itself as she likens the stain to her hair.

Mila Babicheva is not a girl to be tossed aside on the fly, and she will show the world exactly why that is.

 

 -

 

Involuntarily she tenses at the touch, and she wills herself to relax before he noticed. To buy herself some time, she allows air to fill her vocal cords before letting out a tinkle of laughter, batting her eyelashes to double the effect she is certain she has on the man beside her. She tilts her head to the side, away from the man but just enough to be teasing, and she feels the ghost of the tumble of locks she had cherished just a few months prior. To ground herself, she concentrates her sensation on the ones that are present, the ends tickling her ear making it easy enough to do so. Her body finally relaxes, and he must feel her hip pushing back because of it, for the squeeze she gets simultaneously makes her heart jump and sink.

Splaying her fingers over his unbuttoned chest, she takes a deep breath and leans in, letting her lips ghost over his collarbone.

_It’s okay. I’m in control. It’ll be over soon._

 

-

 

For the fifth time, Mila spends a week accepting the condolences though she feels inappropriately happy while doing so. Not at the loss of a life, for that is never excusable, but for the fact that she was important enough for someone to be worth losing a life over. She has yet to figure out the exact trick of her trade, as somewhere along the way she lets herself go with the flow. As the hushed whispers behind her back grow louder with each passing day, she feels her back tingling with the attention and controls the nature of the smile threatening to spill from her lips.

She’s not so naïve to think she’s innocent, but she knows she is not guilty.

Not by law at least.

 

-

 

The constable’s eyes rove up and down her figure, and Mila can see the desire lurking in the depths of his eyes with the same clarity that illuminates the gold band glinting on his hand. She does, however, mentally applaud his duty for his job as his hands never stray from his sides while he tells Mila of her supposed crimes.

(She would have also applauded his duty to his wife, if she was still unaware of the natures of men)

She feels a little put out that the police have caught on to her before she could spread her influence effectively, but her life is valuable to her and she supposes a life she has an awareness about is a better punishment than no life at all.

The detective alongside the constable, who has been quiet throughout the debrief, leans forward and exhales. The constable clamps his mouth shut mid-sentence and the detective opens his.

“Why do what you did?”

From the moment the two had shown up at the doorstep, Mila knew that the detective was a man whose character rarely existed beyond the pages of the latest novel. Diligent, loyal, brave, kind. One of a few who have not left her feeling disgusted by the opposite sex. Despite her approval of the man, she doesn’t feel the need to deem him with her true answer and so she tilts her head slightly, letting her short locks sway with the motion. Blinking slowly, _innocently_ , she asks, “Why did I do what?”

The detective’s eyes narrow. Ignoring the question, he says, “You’ll be escorted by three knights to the nunnery, who will come pick you up tomorrow at dawn. They are quite good, so you needn’t worry about your life being in danger.”

 _Maybe not in the way you think anyway._ Bunching up the skirt under her hands slowly enough for the two not to notice, Mila continues to let the strange men in her flat debrief her about her punishment.

 

-

 

_How cute._

The thought runs unbidden through her mind, as the youngest of the guards throws another angry hiss at the oldest. Mila is slightly worried for the third guard as he mutters and laments to himself about matters that are close to her own heart, but otherwise has felt lighter during the trip than she has in the past two years.

The guards had been punctual, and the detective was justified in his recommendation, as neither of the guards’ eyes strayed from Mila’s own, stances never altering even when exposed to Mila’s state of undress. Even so, Mila had not let go of her own wariness until they had been well on their way, and the oldest had let his expression slip into one of wistful longing when asked by the black haired one about his lover’s well-being. When the youngest had let out a disgusting squelch at the look, Mila had laughed freely, which served as an ice breaker and a friendly invitation for conversation both.

The journey was a long one, as the nunnery she was being sent to was two towns, a sea and a mountain ridge away. Her hair grew back to the length it had been most of her life, and it pleased Mila, more so when she realized that she did not associate it with sad happenings anymore. The guards accompanying her became closer by the day, and it was not long before she likened them as the brothers she never had. Little did she know that they felt the same.

On reaching the port town, Viktor quickly arranged for a ship to carry the four of them across, while Yuri dragged Georgi by the arm to the nearest food stall, impatient enough to snatch the coin purse from his hands the second they were out. Mila’s amusement with the scene grew as Yuri stomped his way back to her side, pointedly chomping down on the pirozhki in his hand before holding one out for her. Laughing, she ruffled his hair, and had him in a headlock by the time Viktor and Georgi had approached them both.

 

-

 

The departure from port had been smooth, unburdened by troubles, and maybe that was why Mila’s senses were so heightened that only she heard the low, soft hum as their ship approached a lone rock in the sea. She had seen this rock from the city, and was fascinated by the solitary structure but that fascination was nothing compared to the magnetic pull of the humming in her ears. The sun was high above her head as she tilted it back to see if there was a source, but other than the rock, she saw nothing.

Curiosity still throbbed through her veins though, and after much pleading, it was unanimously decided that Georgi would accompany her for the whole climb, with Yuri halfway down and Viktor manning the ship. The humming in her ears grew louder with each stretch of her hand, and after what seemed like an age, she found herself being pulled on to the top of the rock. Letting go of Georgi’s hand, gliding away from him, she let her eyes roam across the scene in front of her, watching the town thrum with life as the sun’s rays beat down on its roofs.

It was as the sun hit a glass window of a homely structure did Mila notice, donned in simple clothing, a very familiar mop of brown hair. Sun-kissed skin, unchanged in hue, radiated the same warmth that had once tossed her away, and she could feel the wind lifting her hair, letting it stream behind her, kissing her nape as she trembled with the want that had been all she had known two years prior. Heart choking with emotion, she did not hear Georgi’s frantic cries, eyes locked on the being that had been her everything, that might still be her everything.

Only a moment too late did she register the slip of her ankle, the horror stricken look on Georgi’s face, the rush of the air beating against her back, and the splash of the water below.

 


	2. Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this has come to fruition thanks to the lovely Owlsnipe who wanted a backstory for this fic. I hope this hits the brief, and if you'd like more do let me know! 
> 
> I'm also updating the tags in a bit because there's more context? Anyway when you read it you'll get it hahahha. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Despite what the world thinks of her, Mila never goes out of her way to capture someone’s attention. She had been noticed amongst the sea of blonde and brunette children only because of her unusual hue of crimson, and soon she was taken in by her parents. She didn’t even know what the word ballet meant, until a tall lady with piercing bottle green eyes stopped her from making anymore playful involuntary turns with a hand on her shoulder. It was not her intention to draw in Sara’s interest by drawing during class instead of taking notes. She had certainly not accounted for running into him when dropping Sara off after a play, both of them laughing about something that had tickled their fancy.

However, run into Michele she had, and had spectacularly stained his grey vest with her rouge.

Mila had always fancied Sara’s visage, and had envied it too. She had lamented not having it out loud, and within she had lamented it not being a male’s. To come face to face with something she secretly wished and wanted made her giddy with delight, yet the manner in which her wish was granted made her equally embarrassed. Both feelings invoked a strong reaction, and Mila was sure her face was as red as her hair, lowering her first impression even further.

Yet, a slightly shell-shocked Michele had let out a quaky smile, and that gave Mila a hope she never had before.

 

-

 

When she registers the unexpected heat on her lips, she can only blink in shock, before her eyes slip shut.

He had taken her hand during their stroll, Sara having disappeared somewhere on the way. Although an assurance of “so that you do not get lost in the crowd yourself” was directed at her, her hope did not dampen. Her hand tingled with the contact, and she thanked her lucky stars for being brought to this moment. Lost in the sensations of happiness and skin to skin contact, Mila missed the purposeful maneuvering of her person into an alleyway till she reached its entrance. As she began to question their route, she was quickly silenced.

Mila will take being silent for the rest of her life, if this was the means to the result.

She pressed back with as much fervor as she could, and her free hand travelled upwards to lodge itself in his hair. Savoring the feel of the silken chestnut hair under her fingertips, Mila gripped tighter at their laced hands to control the tremors of excitement buzzing just underneath her skin. She opened her eyes slightly, and the sight of Michele’s closed eyelids at such proximity made a wave of feeling crash through her, prompting her to press against him.

They were there for an age, uncaring of their surroundings as they made obscene noises. Such behaviour would normally make Mila blush with embarrassment or shame, but in the security of her waist being supported and her hand being squeezed, she found nothing but affection.

 

-

 

It would not do to cry, it’s not becoming of a proper lady.

This was what Madame Lilia made sure Mila was aware of every time she was ready to throw the rag in at ballet.

This is what Mila repeats in her head as she makes her way through town, through her home’s entrance, till she slams the door of her bedroom shut.

It’s not the first time she has had a fight with Michele. Usually it’s just over little things, like their conflicting schedules or their unshared interests.

This time it was about their feelings, and it makes Mila lightheaded with illness.

Mila had not had the time for, nor was in a particular mood to indulge in their physical dalliances. She enjoyed them usually, but she had not felt like it. All she had wanted to do was spend time with Michele, like how she spent time with Sara, just enjoying each other’s presence.

That did not mean she liked Sara romantically, or that she liked Michele platonically.

She hated that he assumed that. Had she not proven herself enough?

Maybe she needed to work on it harder.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like I'm on Tumblr where I'm a general fangirl: endlesscloudsoftime.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Lately writing has taken longer to get to me, so I will be a bit behind prompt wise, but I'm hoping to catch up with Myth week as soon as I can. Hope you like this one!


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